Free Sons of the Oak by David Farland

to find the bodies of those girls—the ones that had the babies in them. But the strengi-saats must have carried them away first. So Daymorra probably set fire to the hills, to burn them out.”
    â€œI’ll bet that the monsters carried them in their mouths,” Jaz said, “the way a mother cat will move her kittens once you’ve found them.”
    â€œMaybe,” Fallion said.
    One of the monsters snarled in the distance, across the river to the north of the castle. Jaz turned to Fallion, worried.
    â€œFallion, I think we’re surrounded. Do you think that Mum will have us fly out?”
    In Mystarria, each castle had a few graaks, giant flying reptiles with leathery wings, to carry messages in times of distress. The graaks could not carry much weight for any distance, and so the graak riders were almost always children—orphans who had no one to mourn them if they were to take a fall. But if a castle went under siege, as a last resort the royal children would sometimes escape on the back of a graak.
    Fallion felt an unexpected thrill at the thought. He had never flown before and would soon be past the age where he could ride a graak.
    Why not? he wondered. But he knew that his mother would never allow it. Graak riders were given endowments of brawn and stamina, so that they could hang on tightly and endure the cold and lonely trips. His mother wouldn’t let him ride a graak without endowments.
    â€œShe won’t let us fly,” Fallion said. “She’ll send us with an escort.”
    â€œ Let us fly?” Jaz asked. “Let us fly? I wouldn’t get on a graak for anything.”
    â€œYou would,” Fallion said, “to save your life.”
    Humfrey darted under the bed and came back up with a wilted carrot. He threw it up on Fallion’s pack, and snarled, “Weapon. Weapon, Jaz.”

    Fallion smiled at the ferrin’s sense of humor.
    Jaz picked up the limp carrot and swished it in the air like a sword, and the ferrin cried in glee and thrust with his spear, engaging the human in mock combat.
    Fallion glanced back at the fire and wondered about the strengi-saats. He didn’t always think quickly, but he thought long about things, and deeply.
    When Borenson had cut Rhianna open, all that Fallion had seen were eggs—ghastly eggs with thin membranes of yellow skin, cast off from a hideous monster.
    But what would the monster have seen? Her babes. Her love. And a strengi-saat would want to protect her young.
    How far would she go to do it?
    Fallion remembered a heroic tabby cat that he’d seen last spring, fighting off a pair of vicious dogs in an alley while she tried to carry her kitten to safety.
    With a dawning sense of apprehension, Fallion got up and ran out into the hallway. Humfrey squeaked and followed. As Fallion raced out the tower door, along a wall-walk, he grabbed a torch from a sconce.
    Sir Borenson and Fallion had left Rhianna in her room, to sleep off the effects of the drugs she’d taken. The healers had said that she needed rest.
    Perhaps she’ll need more than that, Fallion thought. Perhaps she’ll need protection.
    As he ran, Fallion tried to recall their retreat from the hills. The strengi-saats had given chase, but had not attacked. Like mothers protecting their young, he thought, just trying to drive us off.
    And now he realized that once they had driven off the men, they’d gone back to their children. In fact, Fallion realized now that as they had run, he had heard bell-like calls in the woods far behind them. At least one of the strengi-saats had remained to guard the young.
    With rising apprehension Fallion redoubled his pace.
    But when we first went up there, he wondered, why hadn’t the strengi-saats stayed at the tree to guard their young? Most animals would have stayed to protect their offspring.
    Then he recalled the cracking sound in the woods when he’d first found the bodies. It had been